One Week
by Sugar Kane
Summary: Mike and Connie head to the altar in just one week.
1. Saturday, June 14

_The standard disclaimer applies: All characters are property of Dick Wolf and NBC Universal. Not mine, not making money._

**"One Week"**

**Saturday, June 14**

When it happened, Mike and Connie were on the couch in Connie's apartment, watching TV and eating takeout Chinese. He'd insisted on watching the Yankees game, much to her chagrin – she was a Mets fan. But he'd also promised that they'd watch whatever she wanted later, or perhaps even go out to a movie, so she let him have his baseball game.

During a break in the seventh inning, the camera panned to a guy in the stands. He wore blue and white face paint, and carried a sign that read "Julie, will you marry me?"

"Awww," Connie said, taking a bite of her Kung Pao chicken. "How sweet."

Mike looked at her. "We should do it," he blurted.

He didn't mean for it to come out at that moment – he'd been considering proposing to her for a long time, but always expected it to happen in a nicer setting, like a fancy dinner. Greasy Chinese wasn't what he'd call fancy, and he didn't even have a ring.

"Do what?" Connie asked, seemingly oblivious.

"You know," Mike said shyly. "Get married."

She stared at him in shock, and he supposed that she hadn't been expecting this kind of proposal either. He hoped that she wasn't insulted.

"My God," she said, putting her chopsticks down. "You're serious."

"Yeah," Mike replied, swallowing hard. "So, what do you say?"

Mike adored Connie, and wanted her to be his wife more than anything – he'd been a bachelor long enough. He looked into her eyes, trying to imagine what her response would be. His fear was palpable – it was like anticipating a verdict, except a thousand times scarier. If she rejected him, he didn't know what he would do.

She suddenly smiled, then began to laugh. For Mike, the situation became even tenser – was she laughing at him? Perhaps he did just come off like a complete loser.

"Yes, Mike," she said. "I'll marry you."

Now it was Mike's turn to be shocked.

"Really?" he asked.

"Yes, really," Connie replied, still laughing. "I love you."

It seemed like a silly response to thank her – but just how does a man respond to finding out that the woman of his dreams had just agreed to marry him?

And what words did come out, came at the speed of bullets.

"You won't regret this, Connie. I'll be a good husband to you, and I'm so sorry I don't have a ring – I don't know what the hell I was thinking, proposing without a ring –"

"Calm down," she said, pressing her lips to his. "It'll be all right."

Mike had completely forgotten about the game, which had been the center of his attention up until a few minutes ago. In fact, he'd forgotten about everything except the fact that he was a newly engaged man.

He'd never been happier.


	2. Sunday, June 15

**Sunday, June 15**

Mike stepped out of the taxi onto Fifth Avenue. He was so filled with excitement and anticipation that he didn't get much sleep, and this particular task was foremost on his mind. Of course, he couldn't leave the apartment without Connie asking where he was going – he'd told her that he had an errand to run, nothing too important.

The first part of that statement was true, but the second part was an utter lie.

As Mike stood outside the imposing stone structure with its famous Atlas clock – according to legend, the clock has stopped only once, on the exact hour of President Lincoln's death – he realized that picking out Connie's engagement ring was very important, probably one of the most important things he'd ever do.

He took a deep breath and entered the building, nodding to the guard at the door.

If his nerves were bad before, seeing the overwhelming selection of jewelry certainly didn't help matters. There were earrings, and necklaces, and brooches, and bracelets, and rings of every kind. Mike didn't even know where to start – what he wanted was an engagement ring that suited the woman he was going to marry.

Mike stood in front of the glass-encased display for a moment, not quite knowing what to do. A well-dressed older woman spotted him and approached, flashing a pleasant smile.

"Welcome to Tiffany's, sir. I'm Kathy. How may I help you?"

He cleared his throat. "Um, yes, hello…I'm looking for an engagement ring."

"Certainly." Kathy led him through the maze of people to another display. "This is our engagement collection," she said, pointing to one ring in particular. "I strongly recommend the Tiffany Setting. It's our most popular design, and the world's favorite engagement ring."

Mike examined the ring. It was perfect – so simple, so beautiful, and so Connie.

"How much?" he asked.

"This ring starts at nine hundred and seventy dollars."

He winced. So much for purchasing a new BlackBerry this year. Still, if it made Connie happy, every single penny was worth it.

"I'll take it," he said, reaching for his wallet.

"Excellent choice," Kathy replied. "Your lady will love it."

After Mike's credit card was approved, Kathy wrapped up his purchase, placing the velvet ring box in a larger blue Tiffany box with a white silk ribbon.

"What's your lady's name?" she asked.

"Connie," Mike said, beaming proudly.

Kathy smiled. "You look very happy."

"I am."

* * *

"There you are," Connie said as Mike entered the apartment. "I thought you were never coming back. What errand was it, anyway?"

"Nuh-uh," Mike replied, kissing her. "That's for me to know and for you to find out."

She smiled at him mischievously. "Okay. You know that I absolutely love surprises."

"Trust me, this one will be worth it."

As Mike slipped out of sight to hide the box, he hoped that Connie would indeed love the ring he'd chosen. If diamonds really were forever, it turned out that forever hadn't been such a hard thing to deal with after all.


	3. Monday, June 16

**Monday, June 16**

"So," Mike said, writing on his whiteboard, "the gun was found in Crosby's dresser drawer, and Detective Lupo had a warrant to search the entire premises."

He turned to face Connie, who was seated at the circular table. A mess of files and papers were spread out before her. She tapped a pen on the fake wood.

"That is correct," she replied, looking over her notes.

"So, what's the problem, then? Why is the defense contesting the warrant?"

"Because Crosby's accomplice claims that he wasn't mirandized when he told the cops the location of the gun."

"Dammit." Mike walked to his desk, putting down the dry-erase pen and picking up his NYPD baseball. He tossed it in the air a few times, trying to think about Crosby and the gun. Instead, he was thinking about Connie and the ring in his pocket, and when he would properly propose. It had completely thrown him off his game.

He turned towards the window, staring down at the street below. They could just go to City Hall some afternoon and become all nice and legal. A simple ceremony with a judge and some close relatives present –

"Mike?" Connie said, looking at him tentatively. "What's wrong? You seem distracted."

Mike put down the baseball, turning again to look at her. The way he'd proposed had bothered him since it happened, but it occurred to him that he didn't really need one of New York's finest restaurants to do it right. He had the ring, and he had what seemed to him like the perfect setting – the place where they practically lived, where it all began.

He walked to where Connie was sitting, and got down on one knee.

"Mike, what are you doing?" she said, giving him a bemused look.

Mike pulled the blue Tiffany box out of his pocket. "I didn't propose to you in the way you deserved, and now I want to make up for it. Connie Rubirosa, will you marry me?"

He removed the white silk ribbon from the box and opened it, revealing the smaller velvet ring box inside. Then he passed the box to Connie, who slowly flipped it open, gasping at the sight of the brilliant diamond ring. She wasn't laughing this time – tears began to form in her eyes.

"Again, yes," she said. They both stood up at the same time and he wrapped his arms around her, engaging her in a deep kiss.

Mike's office door had been left open, and neither of them noticed the crowd that had formed in the hallway outside until the clapping and cheering started. They pulled apart to realize that half the personnel on their floor were standing there.

"Move along," Mike said, slipping the ring onto Connie's finger. "Nothing to see here."

* * *

"I hear that you and Connie caused quite a scene this afternoon."

Jack peered over his desk at Mike, who was trying desperately to come up with a quick explanation for why he'd brought his and Connie's relationship into Hogan Place when the district attorney had explicitly told him not to do so.

"Yeah," Mike said, leaning back in the large leather chair. "I guess we did."

"And what did I say about keeping your personal lives out of this office?"

Mike sighed. "I know, and I'm sorry. I just got caught up in the moment, I guess."

"Apology accepted," Jack said, looking at Mike like he knew the territory. "I suppose that congratulations are in order. Have you and Connie set a date?"

"Hopefully very soon. Listen, Jack – I was wondering if you had any advice for me?"

"Advice?" Jack said, raising an eyebrow.

"Weren't you married to one of your assistants?"

Jack paused, seemingly giving the question some thought.

"Yes, I have advice. Let me reassign Connie. Because working together and living together is too much for a couple to handle – believe me, I know that better than anyone. It's what killed my first marriage, and I'd hate for that to happen to you two."

* * *

"I've been thinking," Connie said as she curled up in bed next to Mike. "Let's do it this weekend – we can fly out to Vegas and have the ceremony there."

"This weekend?" Mike said, putting his arm around her. "Don't you want a big ceremony with all of our friends and family?"

"We can have a second ceremony later with all that. But I'm thinking that we should have a ceremony that's just for us. I view marriage as a very personal thing."

Mike thought about it. "Okay," he said, smiling. "That's what we'll do."


	4. Tuesday, June 17

**Tuesday, June 17**

In the dim evening light of Mike's office, Connie stared intently at her laptop screen.

"What are you doing?" Mike asked from behind his desk. "Checking your e-mail?"

She looked up. "Booking our hotel and plane tickets for this weekend. How about the Fontaine? It seems very nice, and I don't want to stay at a hotel that's too cheesy."

"Vegas was your idea," he retorted playfully.

Connie smiled at him mischievously. "We could get married in New York, but a blood test is required to apply for a marriage license here, and you hate needles."

"Point well taken," Mike said, wincing at the thought of having his blood drawn. "I assume that you've done your homework?"

Connie nodded. "No blood test, and no waiting period. All we need are our Social Security numbers and driver's licenses for identification."

Mike stood up, moving behind Connie so he could look over her shoulder.

"Yikes," he said. "This hotel costs two hundred dollars a night."

"And the plane tickets will cost sixteen hundred dollars, round-trip."

Mike swallowed hard. It was more than he'd paid for Connie's engagement ring. If this was a small wedding, he hated to imagine what the second ceremony would cost.

"How are you affording this? You make less than I do."

Connie turned to look at him. "I've saved up a lot of money over the years, and I figure that now is the time to spend it." She hit the enter key. "Our hotel and plane tickets are booked, by the way. We're leaving Friday night."

"What about the wedding itself?"

"That's why I want you to check out this website with me," she said, typing in another website address.

"A Vegas wedding chapel website?"

"Yeah. They have wedding packages starting at a hundred and fifty-nine dollars."

Mike skimmed the front page of the website. "An Elvis impersonator can marry us!"

Connie turned again, looking at him like he was crazy.

"Kidding. So which wedding package do you like?"

"The Eternity package. It includes the ceremony, flowers, music, champagne, and a wedding photo. It's three hundred dollars. What do you think?"

"Whatever you want," Mike said, a little surprised that she didn't go for the package with the unity candle ceremony – whatever that was. He hadn't the slightest idea about weddings.

Connie typed in their registration information. In a matter of seconds, it was done.

"We're getting married on Saturday," she said ebulliently. "Can you believe it?"

_No, _Mike thought. _I really can't._


	5. Wednesday, June 18

_A/N: I recommend that you read my story "Meet the Cutters" (also available on this website) before reading this chapter. Otherwise, the first part of it may not make much sense._

**Wednesday, June 18**

"Something's going on, Free. What is it?"

Mike leaned back in his chair, sighing. He should have known better than to hide the wedding from his mother. Even over the phone, she was a pro at reading him. The tone of his voice – he'd been at excitement pitch all week – was what gave him away.

He picked up the cricket ball on his desk, rolling it gently in his hand as he prepared to tell Sylvia the news. He knew she'd be disappointed, because she wouldn't be there. There was always the second ceremony, but that would probably come as cold comfort.

"Connie and I…" he began. "We're getting married in Las Vegas on Saturday."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

"Oh," Sylvia said. Mike winced; he could literally hear her heart sink.

"Mom, Connie thought it would be best if we just did it by ourselves –"

"I understand," Sylvia said, interrupting him. "Is she…" She paused, as though searching for a way to delicately state what she wanted to say. But Mike was also a pro at reading her – he immediately picked up on the implication.

"No, she's not pregnant!" he exclaimed, horrified that she would even think such a thing.

Still, he could literally feel the disappointment in Saratoga Springs. His relationship with his parents had been rough over the years, but he was their only son, and despite Connie's wishes, he could understand how his mother felt. Of course, she wanted to see him wed.

Overcome with guilt, Mike gave in.

"Why don't you and Dad book a flight to Vegas?"

Sylvia's joy was palpable.

But Mike knew that Connie would kill him.

* * *

After Mike finished speaking with his mother, he set himself to a different task – making sure that Connie's birthday didn't go unnoticed. He had nearly forgotten, with the excitement of planning the wedding – luckily, he'd made a note of it in his BlackBerry.

Connie was in court all afternoon, and Mike used the opportunity to decorate her desk with long-stemmed roses and a cupcake from one of Manhattan's finest bakeries. And there was the gift – a Steiff teddy bear. Connie's weakness was for stuffed animals.

Finally, Mike saw her exit the elevator at the end of the hall. He lit the candle on top of the cupcake, and made last-minute adjustments to ensure that everything was perfect.

Oh, the look on her face when she arrived. Mike would do anything for that smile.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart," he said.

* * *

There were further celebrations when they got to Mike's apartment that evening. As soon as they were in the door, Connie began kissing him eagerly. She took him by the hand, leading him into the bedroom where she did a provocative striptease.

Afterward, once the afterglow had faded, Mike's attention turned to what Jack had said to him two days ago. It had bothered him ever since.

"Jack thinks you should be reassigned," he said as Connie rested her head on his chest.

"Really?" Connie said. "Why?"

"Because he doesn't think living together and working together is a good thing. And he should know – his marriage to Liz Donnelly ended in divorce."

Connie was silent for a moment, as though giving it some thought. "Mike, we've been a couple since November. And we've managed to make it work. I respect Jack's opinion, but I like working with you – and I'm not keen on yet another new boss."

"And I'm not keen on a new assistant," Mike said, stroking her hair.

"So it's settled. Things will stay just as they are."

Mike was happy at the resolution – but he still had no idea how to tell Connie that his parents would be joining them in Vegas.


	6. Thursday, June 19

**Thursday, June 19**

"Connie, there's something I have to tell you."

Mike hadn't slept much that night. He'd spent the wee hours working out how to tell Connie about his parents, much like he would work out a summation. Now, as they sat in her living room enjoying a quick breakfast, he decided to just bite the bullet and do it.

"What?" Turning to face him, Connie wiped the butter from the corners of her mouth with a napkin. Even in mundane moments like this, with no makeup and in a tattered bathrobe, she was beautiful. Mike couldn't wait to spend the rest of his life with her.

If he could get past telling her the bad news, and if she didn't kill him first.

Mike exhaled. "My parents…they're going to be at the wedding," he said.

"Mike!" Connie exclaimed, frowning sharply. "We agreed on a private ceremony!"

"Would you let me explain?"

"Do I really want to hear it?"

Mike sighed. "You know that I speak to my mother on the phone every week. I told her about the wedding – Connie, she sounded so heartbroken when she learned that she couldn't come. I felt guilty, so I suggested that she and Dad book a ticket to Vegas."

Connie gave him a little smile. "So you did it to spare your mother's feelings."

"Yes. Forgive me?"

She sipped her coffee. "I can't say I'm not disappointed. But on the bright side, it spares us having to go through a second ceremony. Since your parents are coming, I'll call my mother today and find out if she and my sister can make it."

Inwardly, Mike gave a sigh of relief.

* * *

Mike had something important to ask Jack.

All morning, he'd been seeking the right moment to speak with his boss – but Jack was either in a meeting, or on the phone, or otherwise unavailable. Finally, Mike spotted him going into his office. He followed the district attorney across the threshold.

"Jack, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure," Jack said, sitting down behind his desk. "Is it the Holman case?"

Mike shook his head, taking a seat in one of the chairs. "It's personal."

"Okay. Can I safely assume that it's about your upcoming nuptials?"

"Yes," Mike said. "You know that Connie thinks the world of you."

Jack smiled. "She hasn't told me as much, but that's good to hear."

"And her father passed away several years ago, meaning that she has no one to walk her down the aisle. Jack, I was wondering if you would do it."

There was a brief silence between the two men.

"I'm honored," Jack finally said. "But why isn't Connie asking me this?"

"Because I think she expects to walk down the aisle alone, and I don't want that. Would you please consider it? For her?"

"Sure. Where's the wedding going to be?"

"In Las Vegas," Mike said. "I hope that won't be a problem."

"Vegas? It's been years since I've been there, but I'm up for a weekend in Sin City."

Now it was Mike's turn to smile. "And while I'm asking you favors, I'm also without a best man. Would you consider doing double duty?"

"For all the conflicts we've had, Mike, I never expected to be asked that."

"Connie's not the only one who thinks the world of you. So what do you say?"

"Why not?"

Mike smiled again. "Thanks, Jack – I mean it. I really owe you."

"And you know what they say, Mike," Jack said with a wink. "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas."


	7. Friday, June 20

**Friday, June 20**

Almost showtime.

Mike glanced at his suitcase, trying to determine if he'd forgotten anything. There was the suit he planned to wear, which was already laid out across his bed in a garment bag. Then there were his casual clothes, grooming supplies, and a change of underwear.

Most importantly, there were the rings. He and Connie had picked them out just that morning – they weren't in the midst of a trial, and had arranged with Jack to have the day off. Unbeknownst to Connie, Mike had the insides of both gold bands engraved.

Into his pocket they went. No way were they traveling in checked baggage.

Looking over his bags for what seemed to be the umpteenth time, Mike concluded that he'd packed everything that he was supposed to pack. He was due to meet Connie at Newark International Airport in an hour, so he needed to get going.

As he prepared to leave, he took one last look at his apartment.

_Next time I set foot in here, I'll be a married man._

# # #

Mike was trying his best to relax.

They were ninety minutes into a five-hour direct flight to Vegas, and his nerves were playing hardball. All he could think about were things that could possibly go wrong with the wedding. What if they couldn't get the marriage license? What if something went wrong with the chapel booking? And worst of all – what if Connie got cold feet?

The Xanax he'd taken prior to boarding wasn't doing much good, the in-flight movie wasn't one he really wanted to see, and there was a screaming baby three rows down.

"You're gripping the armrests. And your knuckles are white," Connie said.

Mike looked down – she was right. He let go, folding his hands in his lap instead.

Connie smiled at him slyly. "Meet me in the washroom in three minutes," she said, getting out of her seat and making her way up the aisle.

In retrospect, he wonders how he didn't know what she was getting at – the most reasonable explanation is that he was so stressed and anxious. But he did as he was told, catching a few stares as he naively followed Connie into the lavatory.

Where he learned just how interesting sex could be at 35,000 feet.

After they finished, they exited separately. Of course, Mike was lucky enough to be greeted by a line of impatient passengers. Crimson-faced, he did his best to avoid making eye contact with any of them.

But Connie had taken his mind off his worries. So, the embarrassment was worth it.

# # #

They arrived in Vegas in the early evening. Relieved that they were checked into the hotel and settled in, Mike was looking forward to getting some sleep. Tomorrow was a big day – it would start in the morning with the marriage license – and he needed to be rested. He was shaky enough as it was, without sleep deprivation contributing to it.

He was about to get undressed when Connie made the suggestion.

"Why don't you go downstairs to the hotel bar?" she said, unpacking a suitcase.

"I'm tired," he replied as he began to unbutton his shirt. "The flight did me in."

"You look like you could use a drink," she countered. "It might help you relax."

"I really don't, Connie. All I want to do right now is go to bed—"

"Mike, I _insist._"

Her arms crossed, Connie meant business, and Mike knew it. He couldn't figure out why she was so insistent about this – the logical assumption was that she wouldn't want him out cavorting on his last night of freedom. Especially not in Las Vegas.

Still, the last thing he wanted was an argument on the eve of their wedding. So he adjusted his clothing and brushed his hair, preparing to go downstairs. Just one drink. Then she'd be satisfied and he could then try to get some rest.

"Love you," he said as he exited the hotel room.

# # #

As he entered the lounge, Mike instantly spotted the familiar figure at the bar. The older man glanced periodically at the TV, thoughtfully sipping a drink – Scotch, Mike guessed.

"Jack," Mike said, sitting down beside his boss. "What are you doing here?"

"I believe that I'm the best man in your wedding. Ready to sow some wild oats?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You and I are going out on the town. A bachelor party of sorts," Jack said, grinning.

Mike shook his head. "I'll have a drink with you, but that's it. I promised Connie –"

"Oh, relax." Jack knocked back the last of his Scotch. "This was her idea. She doesn't want you going into marriage without experiencing one last night of revelry."

Mike smiled slightly – now his fiancée's actions were starting to make sense. Realizing that he probably didn't have much of a choice, he followed Jack outside the hotel, where a car waited for them. Twenty minutes later, they were at one of Vegas' finest strip clubs. They took a table in the front, and Jack immediately ordered drinks.

Mike quietly sipped the same Bloody Mary for what seemed like hours, while Jack consumed one drink after another. He couldn't avoid looking at the display of cosmetics and silicone that gyrated before him, but still felt guilty for being there – to him, it felt like he was cheating on Connie with his eyes.

Oh, well – at least Jack seemed to be having a good time. He happily accepted a lap dance, stuffing twenties into a bleached blonde's G-string.

Hours later, after seeing to it that an inebriated Jack McCoy was safely deposited at his hotel, Mike returned to his and Connie's room. He quietly undressed, showered, and got into bed, careful not to wake her. He watched her sleep for a few moments, still marveling at the reality that she was going to marry him.

Then he deposited a kiss, feather-light, on her cheek.

"Soon," he whispered.


End file.
